by Kimber Chin
Anne murmured his name contentedly, backing up until their skin touched and was breathing heavily again almost immediately. It took Philippe many more minutes to join her.
* * * *
Anne woke first in the early morning light, turning in Philippe's arms to stare into his sleeping face. He is here! She touched his bristle covered cheek in wonder. Philippe was in her bed. She was almost naked. He was almost naked. How they got that way, Anne didn't know.
The bits and pieces she did remember of the evening weren't exactly her shining glory. Despite all that, Philippe hadn't run for the hills, he stayed. She didn't know why. There was no reason for him to stay, to be so very kind to her. It's almost as though ... he cares. That's a foolish thought, isn't it? No, it had to be revenge. And if it was revenge then there was nothing to protect her from it now. He'd seen every possible ugly side of her personality. Nope, no going back, might as well enjoy the forward for as long as it lasted.
Be brave, be fearless. Anne kissed his bare shoulder, sucking on his skin, and when she glanced up again, his eyes were open. Warm brown eyes with dashes of gold dancing in them.
"How are you feeling?"
No guts, no glory. “I don't know you tell me.” She brazenly stroked him with her entire body, brushing her breasts against his chest, his body reacting immediately.
"Are you sober now?” His rumble made her skin tremble.
"Unhuh.” She traced the vein on his neck with her tongue. Salty.
"How many fingers?” He held out three.
She took one finger into her mouth and sucked on it. When she was done to her satisfaction, Anne smiled at him. “Are you going to make me walk a straight line?"
"Never.” Philippe tenderly stroked her side, resting his hand on her hip, fingertips hesitating on the tiny black ribbons. “Are you sure, Cherie?"
Anne pulled her hips back, undoing the ties. “Oh, I'm sure."
"Dieu merci,” he managed before his mouth came down on hers, soft and lazy.
Philippe continued with that speed. Could Anne tempt him into picking up the pace, even by clasping him tightly to her? Nope. He refused to be rushed, kissing her long, and deep and thoroughly. When he was done with her mouth, his lips moved to her neck. Anne was left, hanging onto his shoulders, swiveling her hips against his body.
"Philippe,” she gasped as he captured one dark tipped nipple between his lip-covered teeth, tweaking it to painfully tight attention. His tongue circled first one breast than the other.
"I need.” Anne pushed her hips up. The sensation was too much.
"I know what you need, Cherie.” His hand slid down between her breasts, over her belly to her neatly shaved strip of hair. “You showed me, remember?"
Not this, she didn't show him this. He positioned a finger at her entrance and waited. She couldn't stand it, raising her hips again, legs spread to push that finger in. “Oh.” It felt so good, she pulsed. She let her hips fall and the finger withdrew.
"Again, Cherie,” he prompted, his mouth against her breast.
This time it was two fingers, stretching her, his thumb against her tender nub, caressing it. She thrust twice then twice again. It felt wonderful but not enough.
"I need...” She couldn't find the words to express her need.
She didn't have to. Philippe knew. He rolled her in his arms until she was astride him, his hardness before her. Philippe grasped her wrists, licking the tender palms of her hands before Anne began to pump him.
"Impatient little sparrow, I know what you need. I'll give you it."
And he did. Hands on her hips, Philippe raised her. Anne positioned him properly and sank down with a satisfied moan. He filled her, fitting her perfectly. That was what she wanted, what she needed. She moved, slowly at first, Philippe remaining motionless so she controlled the speed. Up and down, up and down, Anne felt the passion building. Then Philippe began to thrust, hard and sharp upwards, reaching the deepest corners of her body. Anne grasped on to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin, trying to hold on.
"Let go, Cherie, let go,” he panted.
Anne was confused. Let go? No way. She'd fall off.
"Let go, Cherie,” another grunt.
Pushing her fears aside, she did as she was told. Anne released his shoulders, flinging her arms back, arching her back.
Oh, lord, it felt, it felt.
"That's it, fly little sparrow.” And she did, she truly did.
* * * *
In an ideal world, they would have spent the next day in bed, loving each other, exploring bodies, experiencing pleasures unimagined. This wasn't the ideal world. Both Philippe and Anne had obligations, things to get done. The best they could manage was spending the time together accomplishing them.
"How much of the business is engagement rings?” Anne kept one eye on the steady stream of shoppers moving into the high-end jewelry retailer's new store. Potential Be My Guest customers.
"Over twenty percent.” Philippe slipped a large diamond on the ring finger of Anne's right hand. “What about this one?"
"Too large. It'd shred my hose,” she absentmindedly dismissed, her mind on her own issues. Something wasn't quite right with the Be My Guest project. Denise remained anxious, too anxious about timing. Her credit report, as Anne suspected, revealed that she was stretched to the breaking point.
"Would the store see the happy couple after the proposal?” Anne tapped on the glass display case with her left hand.
Philippe placed the ring back and pulled out another. “To size the ring, je pense."
A chance to sell to the bride-to-be. And yeah, Denise had to realize that her tenuous financial situation wasn't going to change soon. Anne glanced down and wrinkled up her nose. Pink. She wasn't a fan of colored diamonds.
Philippe put that ring back without a word, asking for another tray.
She explained that, although they could provide funds for future costs, there wouldn't be enough money to cover past costs. Financiers didn't like it when entrepreneurs pulled their own contribution out of the company. That hadn't gone over well with the blonde. After that, Denise was harder to get a hold of. Almost as though she changed her mind about needing financing. Though when asked, Denise denied it.
"Would they sell their customer list?” Anne asked Philippe.
"Only with customer approval. Sounds like we have a live one.” The half-carat ring fit snugly, like it was meant for her.
Anne tilted the ring, blinking at the dazzling reflection. She wasn't a big jewelry fan but, “It is nice."
"An estate piece. Older cut.” Philippe smiled. “I thought you'd like it. Mais. By live one, I meant Denise's company. If the project's a live one, I'll have you for a while longer, Cherie."
Longer? Anne returned to the present with a thump. “What do you mean?"
"You can't dessert the project in the middle,” Philippe dismissed that idea as absurd, pulling the ring back off her finger. “It would be disruptive."
"Well...” Anne hadn't really thought about it. She committed to three months. After that, it was up to Philippe to manage.
"If it's a green light, might be additional weeks, months, maybe even years,” he continued, “Oui, could take a while to get things settled, Cherie. These things don't run smoothly."
"Months? Years?” Anne straightened. Her own company was currently on life support, running off previously accepted business. She had no time to evaluate new projects. “Not an option. I can't go much longer than the three months we agreed upon, Philippe. I won't have a business to go back to."
Philippe shrugged, not concerned, that self centered man. If it were his business...
"No, I'm serious.” Anne faced him, hands on her hips. “Running long on this contract isn't a possibility."
Philippe's eyes glowed black, back to being the bastard businessman. “It's a very real possibility."
"We agreed...” The contract was only for three months. Had Philippe suspected?
He ha
dn't. “We did, but agreements change, extensions happen. I honestly didn't think any of the plans had legs."
Anne believed Philippe but she couldn't humor him. “No, agreements can't change and I won't allow an extension."
"You don't have a choice,” Philippe sounded certain.
Anne was as certain. “I do have a choice. I can't do it. I won't do it.” To do so, combined with losing him as a financier and Nancy, well, Nancy's situation, would destroy all she had worked for.
"Then you'd better hope that this project falls apart,” was Philippe's advice as he stomped back to the beckoning entrepreneur, “because you're on it until it's concluded."
What the ... Anne was ticked. How had she gotten herself into this no win situation? No matter what she did, she was screwed. She could walk away at three months; the contract binding only to that point, Philippe would have no legal recourse. But then there'd be no hope of either a personal or professional relationship with Philippe.
This project had already lost him a VP; Kevin having been walked out of the building a few days ago. Was that her fault? Not really. Kevin was disloyal and that personality trait would have come out eventually.
Unfortunately, it was now, in the eyes of Philippe's employees, paired with Anne's project management competence. They were watching her closely to see if she disproved Kevin's negative opinion, to see if she lived up to Philippe's glowing evaluation.
So it would cause Philippe loss of face if she left in the middle. It would also be unprofessional. She would have let her hard working team down, a team she rushed for results, any other project leader needing time to ramp up. But by helping Philippe, she would hurt her own business. Maybe not merely hurt her business, maybe kill it. Dead. All that she had worked for. Gone. Entrepreneurs were already going elsewhere for coaching. They were losing referrals from those clients. They wouldn't make their goals for the year.
Anne would have to hustle to reclaim her presence at the top of clients’ minds.
Anne sighed, she knew what her decision was. She wasn't happy about it, how could she be? But she knew what it was.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Twelve
"Nance, we have to talk.” Anne was sitting down, legs crossed at the ankles, in her partner's messy office. It was early evening and they both worked, putting the final touches on a business plan designed for the Angel. It was a good solid plan, one Anne was proud of, with the entrepreneur coming in tomorrow evening to be coached.
A tired Nancy summed up the problem immediately, “I thought you wanted to do this next month, when you wrapped up with Lamont?"
"That was the original plan. Things have changed. If the Be My Guest business is a go, Philippe wants me on board until completion.” Anne eyed the redhead. Nancy didn't seem overly concerned, so she clarified, “Could be months or even more."
"Not willing to let you go just yet, is he?” Nancy's double meaning clear.
"Not yet.” The unspoken assumption being that he would eventually.
"It does complicate things.” Nancy slanted the papers Anne straightened, a long running contest they had, the goal to see how long Anne could go without tidying them. “We'd have to drum up business."
"Yeah.” Anne's fingers itched to straighten the mess. How Nancy could work that way, she didn't know.
"So you'd have the Lamont full time gig, our business plans to do, and the new client evaluations, not to mention your Young C.E.O.s volunteering.” Nancy counted off the tasks. “Can you manage all that?"
Anne broke down, again lining up the papers flush with the edge of the desk. “Frankly, no, and that's why we have to talk."
Nancy studied the very masculine calendar posted on her wall. Schwag from a rental car company, it featured vividly colored muscle cars and half naked women. “It's a couple weeks too early, Annie."
"I know, but it can't wait. It'll be between only the two of us, Nance, I promise. I won't tell anyone.” Anne needed to settle this. Nancy's plans played a key role in her decision.
"You won't tell Stanley?"
Sharing secrets with their good friend Stanley was like taking up a front-page ad in the Los Angeles Times. It was possibly the fastest way on earth to spread information. “Certainly not Stanley, Nance."
"If you do, I'll hear about it,” the warning was unneeded.
"If I do, everyone will hear about it. Stanley isn't exactly the cone of silence.” Far from it.
"More like the bugle horn of broadcast. Oh, and speaking of Stanley, he wants to know if you prefer roses or orchids."
Roses or orchids? A couple days ago, he wanted to know if she preferred a D-J or a live band. Where were these random questions coming from?
"What the...?” Anne sent a perplexed glance Nancy's way.
"Don't look at me, Annie-kin.” Her friends shrugged. “You know how Stanley is."
He was always one for crazy questions and seemingly superficial polls. Most had a purpose, at least in Stanley's unique mind. It was up to the answerer to figure it out. Anne hadn't the time right now.
"Regular ol’ roses, I guess, like in my mom's garden. Orchids are too exotic for me, I don't see their appeal."
"That's what I told him, roses for you. I like orchids myself but you're different and we have to..."
"Nance.” Anne stopped her. Nancy could talk around in circles all night if allowed. “Are we going to discuss your secret or not?"
"Okay, okay,” Nancy agreed, “I suppose I can tell you.
You wouldn't be the first so it can't be bad luck, can it? Ted knows, of course and I think my mom suspects already too and maybe Ted's mom and..."
Again Anne broke in, “Nance, are congratulations in order?"
"How did you know?” Nancy's mouth dropped open.
"Well...” Where to start? Anne would have to be totally self-absorbed not to notice the clues.
"I'm not showing, am I?” The redhead rubbed her hands over her flat belly.
"Not at all, but you're not drinking either, at least not alcohol. Milk, yes. Alcohol, no."
"I hate, hate, hate milk.” Nancy's bottom lip curled.
"I know.” Nance was a long time hater of liquid dairy. Anne couldn't remember her ever drinking it before now. “That was one of the giveaways, that and all that spinach."
"I'm getting sick of spinach too. The doctor said I should eat it,” Nancy grumbled.
"Then you have to eat it, Popeye. So it's a yes. Girl, I'm so happy for you and Ted.” Anne hugged her good friend across the desk.
"Thank you, Annie.” Nancy glowed. “I'm getting used to the idea. Wow. Imagine that. Me—a mom. Scary."
"Not scary. You'll be a great mom.” Nance will be. She takes care of everyone. “How far along are...?"
"Three months in two weeks. That's why I didn't want to say anything. They say it's bad luck and...” Nancy worried; she was a tad bit superstitious.
"But you didn't tell me, I guessed.” Anne skated around the issue, not wanting to cause her friend any additional stress. This seemed to relieve her. Nancy's face cleared. “And your other news?” They might as well talk about everything. “How's real estate in sunny San Diego?"
"Annie James, have I no secrets?” Nancy gasped.
"Not from your best friend, no.” Again, Nancy's not-so-stealthy house hunting activities weren't that difficult to detect.
"Ted was offered a good job there. So good we couldn't turn it down,” Nancy admitted, “We love the city and the company really wants him. They're generously paying the difference in real estate values. That, combined with his increase, means we can live on his salary alone. It'd be tight but we can do it."
So there it was. Nancy's plan. Anne wanted to ensure she knew what her friend was saying. “Are you planning to?"
They sat down and stared at each other, each knowing the answer. Neither wanting to say it. “Well.” Nancy's eyes darted away.
"Are you interested in working remotely?” It was a long shot, she kne
w, but Anne had to try. This was her best friend and long time partner they were talking about.
Nancy slowly shook her short curls. “We've done so well over the years, you and I. I think about all that we've accomplished."
"We've built this business from the ground up.” Anne's face softened as she thought of the hard times, the good times, the wins, the losses. “It's like our child."
"I know,” Nancy paused, “but, Annie, I think I have to focus on my new child now."
So that was that. The sense of loss weighed heavy on Anne. “Understandable."
"You could get a new partner,” Nancy offered, “I'd be okay with that."
"But I wouldn't. To add that to my list of things to do...” Anne wouldn't be able to handle it. “No thanks."
What to do? What to do? Anne looked up at the ceiling, like another answer would appear there. It didn't. “I'm thinking we wrap this up, Nance. Take the next month, finish the existing cases and then close it down.” There, the words were out. No taking them back now. Anne didn't know what solution Nancy was thinking of. This wasn't the one.
"Close the business? Annie, what will you do?"
"Work one job for a change. Finish my time at Lamont Ventures and not have to worry about burning out.” Anne hid her emotions behind flippancy. It wasn't all bad. It would be nice to have a personal life again, some time to do things for herself. Spend some more time with Philippe without having to multi-task. “Then take a breather, go on a trip."
"A vacation? You?” Anne hadn't taken a true vacation since opening the business. “That's a unique concept, isn't it?"
It had been a random thought but it felt good. “Yep, a vacation. Maybe France. I've heard it's nice. Take some quiet time to think about what to do."
"You deserve it, Anne. You've been working way too hard."
"I have been, especially lately with the double job."
Nancy, in full mother training mode, was concerned. “Will you be okay?"
Anne shrugged. “I've saved my pennies.” A single gal, she didn't have many financial concerns.
"You always were a good little investor.” Anne never hid that from Nancy. “So are you finally going to do it?"